Insanity's Family
by angelrider13
Summary: Nemofic! Those in Gotham are known for their loose grip on sanity. The Bats are no exception. Request from xburner21
1. Jason's Encounter

**Alright. So you guys are going to have to bear with me for a bit here. I have things to say.**

**First off, this fic is a request from xburner21. And I liked the request. A lot. So things will be happening.**

**Second off, this fic contains an OC whose origins are explained in my Young Justice story Insanity's Rhyme and Reason, whose reading is not _entirely_ necessary for comprehension, but it will make things easier in the long run (I will probably revisit her past at some point, but I don't think I will go into super elaborit details. If you want those, go read chapter 7 of above mention fic). Rachel's (said OC) history will remain the same for the most part as established in that universe. However, this story will take place in the comic-verse.  
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**Third off, the above mentioned things. This request got me thinking things. Many, many things. So. Instead of being a one shot (as I planned all of my requests to be), this fic has the potential to turn into the longest fic I have ever written. It has become *dramatic drum roll* a MULTI CHAPTER FIC! Now before everyone gets their nickers (haha, that a funny word ^^) in a twist, the chapters are not necessarily related. Some will be connected, and this thing will probably have some overall plot, but this will most likely become a collection of bonding moments between Batfamily members and Rachel.**

**That being said, I will likely require help once my own idea's run out (like I said, I get this feeling that this fic may be lasting for a LONG time). So xburner21, if you're reading this, and I know you are (not to sound creepy or anything), I will probably start asking you for things you want to see in this fic. As it is your request and all.**

**And before everyone else who is reading this starts to feel left out, I will, at some point open this fic to requests for chapters. BUT DO NOT SEND ME ANY UNTIL I SAY SO.**

**Uhmmmmm...let's see, anything else...no, no, I think that's pretty much it...oh wait...**

**I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS XBURNER21! I LOVED YOUR REQUEST! XD (In case you couldn't tell already. X3)**

**Okay. Now I think I'm done.**

**ONWARD!**

**Disclaimer: ...yeah...I just own Rachel...**

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><p>Jason Todd was pissed.<p>

A constant state for him, but tonight, his was more pissed than normal.

The night wasn't even half over and he had already stopped thirty-five muggings, sixteen would-be-rapists, nine attempted murders, and broken up six drug rings that had taken to dealing to kids. He had already been beaten, battered, bruised, shot and cut.

So now, Gotham had a sore, bleeding, pissed off Jason Todd on her hands. Never a good thing if you think about it.

Jason wanted nothing more than to head back to his crappy apartment in Crime Alley and crash. But he had to finish his patrol. If he had learned anything while under the Bat, it was to never half-ass anything. That and Bats were creatures of the night and therefore only needed three hours of sleep to function for an entire week.

Still.

To put it mildly, when Jason jumped down into the alley below him to stop rape attempt number seventeen, he decided that it would just be easier to kill everyone in the damn city. He made quick work of the thugs before turning to actually look at the damsel in distress. The girl hadn't even screamed.

To say he was surprised by what he saw would be an understatement.

*x*x*

Rachel walked through the streets of Gotham bare foot.

She never did like shoes very much, in fact she went without them whenever she could. Which was pretty much whenever no one was there to make her put them on.

She had been walking for hours, and it showed. Her feet were cracked and bleeding, but she didn't notice, her mind elsewhere. Her clouded hazel eyes kept to the roof tops, something criminals would do if they had any remote intelligence.

Really, she wasn't even supposed to be in Gotham. The Bat and the Bird feared what this place would do to her mind if she ever came back. But the Bat was gone, not dead, but on a different plane of existence. The loss still hurt though. It was the first time that she had existed without him and it left a hole in her. But she knew the Red Bird would find him, his faith in the Bat was unwavering and true. The Bird (the first one) had taken the mantel of the Bat. She knew he would not be pleased if he found her here.

But this was her home, and despite how unstable it made her, she wanted to stay. Her home was here, her family was here. This was where the Bat and the Bird lived, this is the place they protected, so this is where she wanted to stay.

She snuck away to Gotham often and she had yet to be caught (It's pretty easy to get away when you know what everyone is thinking.) but she knew it was only a matter of time. After all, you can only hide something from a Bat for so long.

But she came here for a reason.

She turned into an alley, knowing that what she sought was hiding within it. But it was not alone. Two men stepped out and sneered at her, their eyes dark with lust. She knew what they wanted from her, what they planned to do. But she met the gaze unflinchingly, her expression blank.

"Well well well, what have we here?" the first one said as he started circling her. "Little late to be out on your own, ain't it?"

"Nemo is never alone, no matter how much she may wish it," she said, her unfocused eyes remaining locked in front of her.

The second man raised an eyebrow. "Nemo, huh? You got a fancy we of talkin' there, sweetheart." He reached out and took a hold of her chin, dragging her eyes up to meet his. "You're a pretty little thing; hate to see something happen to you. Why don't you let us take care of you?"

She knew, more than felt, that the first man was going to come up behind her and place his hands on her hips, pressing up against her. She knew what they were thinking, she could see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, touch it. She had felt what people like them had done before. She had been both them and their victims. She had felt the sinful pleasure as well as the painful agony. And she did not take pleasure in any of it.

Still, she felt no fear. She knew everything, and she knew there was no reason for her to be afraid. So she let them hold her, let them take her in their minds. But she knew the Bat's ways, and the fate that awaited them was not what he would want.

"The Stray Bird stalks his pray. He strikes it down without mercy or thought. The act of shedding blood is second nature to him," she said, her empty eyes locked on those of the man in front of her, "Those who wish to harm Nemo will fall to his talons if they do not stop."

The men frowned and their touches became rougher.

"What the hell're you talking about?" the man behind her asked, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to bruise. But Rachel didn't flinch, she never flinched.

"You threatenin' us?" the man in front of her asked.

"Nemo does not threaten. Nemo states only fact," she said calmly. "If the men in front of her wish to live, they should walk away while they can."

The man before her smirked darkly. "No can do sweetheart. We have plans for you."

"Then the men may wish to take Nemo in the next two minutes, because that is all the time they will have," she said it in a monotone, as if it didn't matter. Because really it didn't. She already knew what was going to happen. As soon as the Stray Bird saw her, it would be over. These men would be silenced.

And she was right. The men hadn't even gotten their lips on her before they were dead at her feet.

She saw the red helmet, the leather jacket, the gun in his hand. The Stray Bird.

She looked at the men that had been about to defile her with a sadness in her eyes. She could not hear them anymore. Their minds were silent. She never liked it when a mind was silenced, it left her empty. It was an unwelcome feeling.

Still, when she looked up to her savior, she nodded her thanks.

She had known what was going to happen and she had warned them. They chose not to listen. The Bat would be disappointed, she knew, but she had done the only thing she could. She knew that. She also knew that the man before her now was incredibly pissed, though the anger ebbed some when he laid eyes on her.

She smiled at him, catching him off guard.

It was nice. Meeting your brother in person.

*x*x*

Jason blinked, surprised, when the girl before him smiled.

He had just killed two people in front of her and here she was, _smiling_. Not only that, but she was bare foot and her feet were bleeding. Hadn't this girl ever heard of shoes? Jason quickly back tracked, taking in the girl's appearance. She was pretty average looking, long brown hair, hazel eyes. Her skin was extremely pale, like it didn't know what the sun was. She was wearing a baggy long-sleeve shirt and a pair of cargo pants. He couldn't be sure about her age, but he was guessing somewhere in the twenties. She looked like a child, but at the same time, she was an adult. She was probably older than him, but had no way of confirming that.

It was strange.

She was strange.

She started to walk past him and further into the alley. He grabbed her arm. She didn't jump at the contact like he expected her to; she merely turned to him patiently, as if she were a parent waiting for a child to speak up.

He frowned, trying to force back the anger that was still simmering underneath his skin before it spilled over. He wasn't going to hurt her. That would make him just as bad as the men he killed. And that was one level he wouldn't stoop to. "Where the hell are you going? Pretty sure where ever you live is that way," he said pointing out of the alley. "Unless you want to get mugged and raped."

The girl (Because that's what she was, regardless of her suspected age, a girl, not a woman.) turned to him. It was then that he noticed how unfocused her eyes were, like she was looking through him.

"Nemo came here for a reason," she said, gently pulling herself from his grip. He was surprised when he actually let her go.

"Yeah? And that would be what? Getting fucking raped?" he asked, his annoyance seeping into his voice. Why did he care so much? She was just another face, another number. But she wasn't. Jason couldn't place it, but something about this girl was different, and it wasn't just the way she spoke.

The girl, Nemo as she called herself, pointed to a box in the shadowed corner of the alley. Wordlessly, she walked toward it and Jason found himself following her, his feet moving before he could tell them to stop. She pulled the box aside, revealing a cat and a litter of kittens that couldn't be more than a few weeks old. But something wasn't right. Jason frowned when the smell wafted through the filters of his mask. They were dead.

"You're kidding," he deadpanned. "You came out here for a bunch of dead cats?"

"No," she said, shaking her head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She reached over and gently scooped up one of the kittens. To his surprise, it squirmed, startled, in her grasp, letting out a pathetically weak meow. "Nemo came for the Kitten."

"You have got to be fucking kidding," he said. What the hell was with this girl? She was out walking around_ alone_, at _night_, with no form of protection or even fucking_ shoes_ for a fucking _cat_?

Nemo looked up at him pointedly. "The Kitten's family has died. Would you leave him to fend for himself? Would you deny him a chance for a better life?"

Jason hesitated, his eyes narrowing. He got the feeling they weren't just talking about the cat any more. But she didn't wait for his answer. Instead, she sat on the ground, Indian style, cradling the kitten in her lap. She reached into one of the many pockets in her cargo pants and pulled out a small, glass bottle filled with milk. The glass was wet with condensation, the milk was still fresh. He watched as she opened the bottle and dipped her pinky finger into the white liquid. She frowned and mumbled something about being too cold before picking up the bottle and taking a small sip. She held it in her mouth for a moment before spiting it out into the cap. Then she dipped her little finger in it, getting it completely soaked in the liquid, and brought it to the weak feline's mouth. The kitten twitched and began licking her finger, lapping up any and all of the milk it could get its tongue on. The process was repeated until the kitten seemed satisfied and fell asleep.

It wasn't until she looked up that he realized he had stayed, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, watching her work.

"The Stray Bird is curious," she said, tucking the glass bottle away again.

Jason blinked. Stray bird? Was she talking about him? Did she know…? His eyes narrowed.

Nemo sighed. "If the Stray Bird is suspicious, all he has to do is ask."

An eyebrow rose behind the mask. "Stray bird?"

She nodded. "He has strayed from the Bats ideals, broken ties with the family. He is the black sheep, the stray bird of the flock."

Jason paused, staring at her, momentarily stunned. She knew of his connection to the Bat. Snapping himself free of his shock, he leveled his pistol at her head. "Who are you?" he ground out.

"Nemo is Nameless, Nameless is Nemo. Rachel is Nemo, so Rachel is Nameless," she answered calmly.

"Rachel, huh?" he sneered, he couldn't help it. His anger was bubbling over and he was slipping deeper and deeper into his Red Hood persona. "And just how is it you know so much about me?"

Rachel frowned. "Nemo knows everything, feels everything. She is everything, everyone," She paused, her unfocused eyes clouding over, becoming glassy as if she was remembering something from long ago. "She died with the Stray Bird. She was with him when it happened. She was there when he came back." Her eyes suddenly cleared and she looked directly at him. "It hurt. When Nemo's brother died."

Jason didn't know what he was expecting but it wasn't that. His finger was inching ever closer to the trigger, ready to fire the deadly shot. Until that word fell from her lips. Brother. It made him pause.

Suddenly, she turned away from him and frowned, a worried crease forming on her forehead. "The Bat comes. He knows Nemo is here. How did he find out? Nemo was so careful. Oh. It was the Kryptonian. That is cheating," she said, more to herself that him, a pout forming on her lips.

Jason though she looked kind of cute like that.

He immediately killed that thought. Repeatedly.

Rachel stood, ignoring the fact that his gun was still trained on her, the kitten cradled in the crook of her arm. "The Stray Bird should fly before the Bat arrives."

Jason scoffed. "You think I need to run?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "The Stray Bird is cocky and arrogant to think he can take on the Bat, the first Bird as he is now. Because there will be a fight if the two meet."

He thought she sounded almost…sad about that, but the blow to his pride overrode his miniscule empathy. "You don't think I can take him?" he bristled.

"Nemo knows his body better than the Stray Bird does. He is close to failing. He needs rest, he is wounded. He can wait to beat up his older brother until he is better."

"He is NOT my brother," Jason snapped.

Rachel frowned. His response displeased her, he could tell. Hurt flashed in her eyes as well as conflict, like she was fighting with herself. Finally, she settled on glaring at him. "He will ALWAYS be the Stray Bird's brother."

Before he could respond, she had her free arm wrapped around him and her lips pressed to his cheek through his mask. She pulled away before he could react, a stern smile on her lips.

"Bats are stubborn creatures," she mumbled with a sigh, "It must be a family trait." Jason blinked as she began to walk away. "The Bat will be here soon. Nemo shall tell him the Stray Bird said hello."

And then she was gone.

Leaving behind a no longer pissed, but very confused, Jason Todd.

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><p><strong>So first chapter, check! Woot!<strong>

**Now seeing as it is 12:30 in the morning, I think it is time for bed. I feel extremely productive today. *pats self on back***

**Now I just need to put away my laundry and then I get to sleep! Yes sleep...I loves my sleep. Mmmmmm sleepys time...**

**~ Elri**


	2. Richard's Lecture

**So. Second chapter. Wow that was pretty fast. Damn, I am good. Sometimes.**

**Anywho, I had already planned this chapter out but ever since I woke up this morning it has been sitting there going WRITE ME DAMNIT. So I did. And here we are! Just fyi, this is in fact a continuation of the last chapter's plot.**

**So enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: And again with the stupidity of it all...**

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><p>Richard Grayson, the last of the famous Flying Graysons, ward of the late Bruce Wayne, former Robin, former Nightwing, was the current Batman.<p>

It was not a role he chose. He had been forced into it out of necessity. With Bruce gone, someone needed to take up the mantle, or run the risk of Gotham's madness spilling into the world around her after it tore her down. Initially, he shied away from the role; he knew that Bruce had groomed him for it. But the responsibility that came with the cowl was great, one that few could bear even half as well as Bruce had.

But he was learning. And it wasn't as hard has he had imagined to slip into this role. Once he had taken the cowl, he refused to back down. He would live up to Bruce's legacy. But he would not let it consume him, that he swore to himself. He would take the cowl off, not just literally, but figuratively as well. That was something Bruce had always struggled with. But he wouldn't. He would shed the shadows for his family, for Damian and Tim and Alfred, because they needed _him_, Richard Grayson, not the Bat.

He would shed the shadows for _her_ too.

She was his family just as much as the others were, if not more. She was his family, his sister, his daughter. For all she was five years older than him, he had raised her. He was the one that showed her the world outside of the darkness, the cruelty, the pain that was imprisoned in Arkham, her home for eight long years.

So when he got a call from Superman telling him that she wasn't in the Fortress, he panicked. But then the Bat inside of him kicked in. He had sent Damian on a separate patrol, surprising him (He had refused the boy every time he had asked before that), but Dick did not need his questions right now. He needed to find her before something happened.

He knew that she was aware he was looking for her. He knew she would guide him to her position. But he was taking no chances.

He would not relax until he was standing next to her.

*x*x*

When he found her, she was standing in the entrance of an alleyway. He dropped down next to her silently. He was torn between wrapping her up in his arms and yelling at her. But he was wearing the cowl right now, and Batman was not allowed to show such concern. So he stood by her silently, taking in her appearance. She looked fine except for her feet.

Dick winced mentally when he saw the blood. He would need to treat those, quickly, before they became infected. How long had she been on the streets with her feet like that? He resisted the urge to sigh. Batman didn't sigh.

She looked up at him and smiled sheepishly. "Hello," she said.

He frowned. "What are you doing here?" he asked in his Batman voice.

Wordlessly, she held out a ball of fluff to him. It took him a moment to realize it was a kitten; it was so small and its fur was so filthy that it was hard to tell. It looked like it still needed to feed from its mother, it was so tiny that she could hold it in one hand.

"Rachel," he said slowly, "You came to Gotham for a kitten?"

She pulled the small creature back to her chest and lightly ran her finger nails over its head. "His family is gone. He does not deserve to be alone. He is so new to this world, he should not have to leave it so quickly," she paused, frowning, "He…was the only one Nemo could save." Her eyes were glassy, wet.

Dick placed a hand on her shoulder. "You tried," he said.

She leaned into his touch, looking up at him and giving him a watery smile. She blinked as if remembering something. "Oh. The Stray Bird says hello. He wanted to fight the Bir-Bat," she stumbled, correcting herself. He knew Bruce would always be "The Bat" to her, just as he would always be "The Bird." That's just how she was. His hand tightened on her shoulder at the mention of the stray, knowing who she was referring to. "But Nemo made him go home. He was injured and tired." She cocked her head to the side and smirked. "He was offended. He is rather stubborn. Nemo thinks it is a family trait."

Dick knew that Rachel thought of anyone that Bruce had taken under his wing as family, including, but not limited to, the Robins that came after him. He knew she saw Bruce as a father, knew she saw Alfred as a grandfather, knew she saw him as an older brother, knew that Jason and Tim and Damian were her younger brothers. He knew she thought of Barbara and Cass and Stephanie as her sisters. Even if none of them had ever met her. Only he, Bruce, and Alfred knew of her existence, but that didn't stop her from thinking of them as family. He knew she paid special attention to them, knew that they were the most important thing to her.

Still, he needed to ask.

"He didn't do anything to you," it was a statement more than a question.

She shook her head and he noticed the sadness cross her face. "He saved Nemo," she said turning back to look down the alley. It was then that Dick saw the two bodies on the ground. "They were going to…rape Nemo, so he killed them. Nemo tried to warn them, but they did not listen." She looked so incredibly broken at that moment. Dick knew she had seen what they wanted to do to her. Silently, he scooped her up into his arms, calling the Batmobile. "The Bat would be disappointed in Nemo," she said softly. He knew she wasn't talking about him.

"He would be happier that you were safe," he said.

Rachel stayed silent, curling into him. When the Batmobile arrived, he placed her in the passenger seat. They drove back to the cave in silence.

When they arrived, Dick pulled down the cowl, shedding the Batman persona. As he lifted Rachel out of the car, he crushed her to him.

"Don't EVER do that again," he said into her hair.

"Sorry." She giggled. "The Bird is crushing the Kitten."

Dick loosened his hold on her as he carried her to a medical table. "Shut up," he said teasingly, "If the little guy is going to be part of the family, he's going to have to get used to hugs."

Her eyes lit up as he set her down. "Nemo can keep the Kitten?"

Dick laughed. "You'll have to convince Alfred," he said as he started treating her feet.

"Okay."

That was it. No more jokes or laughs. He looked and saw her eyes flitting around the cave. Right…the last time she had been here Bruce was Batman and he was still Robin. They hadn't let her come back here since. They had been scared of what it could do to her mental stability.

Rachel's hands absently pet the bundle of fur in her lap. "Nemo…wants to stay here," her voice was soft, timid.

Dick paused and looked up at her. He silently finished wrapping her feet and put the medial supplies away. He stood in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. "You know why Bruce and I don't want you to," he said gently.

She nodded. "But Nemo can still hear them, even if she is on the other side of the world."

He sighed. "Rachel…"

"Just let Nemo try!" she exclaimed, startling him. "Just let Nemo try," she said again, softer this time. "Nemo wants to be with her family." She held his eyes and he saw the desire, the longing, burning in her hazel orbs. "Let her be with people she loves." She took a deep breath, a look of fierce concentration on her face. "Please, Richard." The last word was forced and he could tell she was struggling to get it out, but she did.

Immediately, he unclasped his cape and threw it over her shoulders, pulling her close. Names were hard for her. For the longest time, she didn't have one. Not until he had given her one when she was thirteen and he was eight.

"Okay," he whispered into her hair and he felt her relax against him. "Okay."

They stayed like that for a while. He realized she was shaking and he felt something wet against his neck. She was crying. He rocked her back and forth, humming an old lullaby his mother used to sing to him. When was the last time he had held her? When was the last time he had seen her? He hadn't had time to visit her in months. Not with his new responsibilities as Batman and his obligation to Damian. Guilt gnawed at his insides and he held her that much tighter. She missed them, she was lonely. Sure she lived at Superman's Fortress, but the Man of Steel wasn't there all the time. He also wasn't family.

_I'm sorry_, he thought.

_The Bird let Nemo stay. He has nothing to be sorry for._

He was surprised by the joy he heard in her voice. So much so that he pulled back to look at her. There were tears running down her cheeks, but she was smiling. Dick reached up and wiped the wetness from her face.

"Can…can Nemo see him?" she asked shyly as she leaned into his touch.

He gave her a small smile. "Sure."

He picked her up and walked over to the memorials. Next to Jason's Robin suit was what remained of Bruce's cape and cowl. She reached out and touched the glass. Dick pressed his face into her hair.

"He would be so proud of you, sis," he whispered.

"Nemo misses him."

He was silent, letting her look at the memorial in peace. They were interrupted by a soft mew coming from the ball of fur resting on Rachel's stomach. She giggled and Dick smiled.

"Looks like someone is finally up," he said. He paused. "You know, we really should give him a bath."

"The Kitten is very dirty," she agreed, running a hand over his small back regardless of the filth. "Can Nemo stay?" she asked, looking up at him.

He smiled and gently placed her on the ground in front of Bruce's memorial, adjusting his cape, so that it settled comfortably around her shoulders like a blanket. She handed him the kitten, who protested, but calmed quickly after a few soft scratches behind the ears and under the chin.

"I'll be right back, Rachel," he said.

"Okay."

She turned back to the glass case, delicately pressing her hand to it again.

_Hello_, she thought to his distant mind, _Nemo misses The Bat. But she is home now and she will wait for him…Father._

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><p><strong>The End.<strong>

**Jk, not the end,but the end of the chapter. ^^**

**Hey does anyone no a really good kitten name? The little guy is gonna be stickin' around so he's gonna need one.**

**~Elri**_  
><em>


	3. Damian's Burden

**Yay, third chapter!**

**Sorry this has taken so long guys, but I just got my appendix taken out and it's really har to write while you're all hopped up on pain killers. Just a heads up that updates may be put on hold for a bit so that I can catch up in school work, cause I missed a whole WEEK of classes. TT^TT**

**CURSE YOU APPENDIX! CURSE YOU! **

**Anywho, this takes place right after "Richard's Lecture."**

**Also, thanks to everyone who reviewed and left kitten names!  
><strong>

**Enjoy! ^^**

**Disclaimer: ...yeah...-_-...**

**ONWARD!**

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><p>Damian was satisfied when he walked back into the cave.<p>

Grayson had finally allowed him to patrol on his own. He had adhered to his father's rules, though he may have been a little rougher than necessary on a few thugs, but no one would mind. He knew that something else had been on Grayson's mind when they split up patrols that night. He was constantly pausing, staring off into space with this intense look on his face. He was worried, that much Damian could tell. But it was no skin off his back if his mentor failed to preform adequately (the chances of that happening were so slim, that Damian was well within his rights to lack concern). It was probably just some new lead on a case he had been working on; after all, they both had cases that only they followed.

So when Grayson was no where to be found when he entered the cave, he wasn't really surprised.

He was surprised, however, when he made his way over to the main computer and found a girl sitting in front of the memorials to his father and Todd.

She had a hand pressed to the glass of the case that held his father's cowl and a black cloth that looked suspiciously like Grayson's cape draped over her shoulders.

His eyes narrowed as he quickly slipped into the shadows, keeping out of sight as he approached this intruder. How did she get in the cave? Why hadn't Pennyworth notified him? Where was Pennyworth? And why did this girl have Grayson's cape? There was no way she could have snuck up on him and taken it if she hadn't even detected his presence yet.

As he got closer, he noticed that her eyes were unfocused, her expression distant. He scoffed mentally, what kind of fool would let their guard down so openly in enemy territory? Silently, he slipped behind her. Just as he pressed the cool edge of his sword to her throat she turned to him.

She stared at him for a moment, expression blank, before a grin split her lips. "Hello," she said, her hand still pressed to the glass.

Damian's eyes narrowed. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" He growled.

"Nemo is no one and she is everyone," she stated matter-of-factly, unfazed by the deadly weapon at her neck. Her smile turned sad as she turned back the case. "Nemo is speaking to the Bat. She misses him."

Damian's grip tightened on his sword. "How do you know Father?"

She shrugged, not looking at him. "Nemo knows everyone. It's not her choice. She has known about the Baby Bird the moment he was conceived. She didn't tell the Bat though. The Baby Bird's mother didn't want him to know, so Nemo kept silent." She pressed her lips, her brow creasing in something that looked like regret. "Nemo is sorry for that," she said quietly.

"What are you talking about?" Damian growled, "Father didn't learn of my existence until I was ten. Not even the entire League of Assassins knew of me. How could you possibly have known something Father did not? I know that Mother didn't tell you."

Nemo nodded, agreeing. "True," she said. She brought up a hand and casually tugged the blade away from her throat, as if it were only a minor annoyance. "But she did not need to tell Nemo because the Baby Bird is a living, breathing entity. Such a thing cannot be kept hidden." Damian refused to let her pull the sword away from her throat and kept it firmly in place. "The sword is making it hard to speak," she said, whining.

"Deal with it," Damian hissed. He wasn't getting anything useful from this girl. She was just babbling nonsense!

Nemo frowned and turned to look at him. "It is not nonsense," she said.

Damian blinked, caught off guard. How did she…?

She sighed and reached up, her hand closing around his wrist, tugging him down with surprising strength. "Sit," she said as he plopped to the ground next to her, "Let Nemo be with her littlest brother."

Damian froze, giving the girl the opportunity to drape the cape over his shoulders so that they were both huddled under it. She threw him a simple smile and turned back to the glass case in front of her while Damian processed what she said. Brother? Then she was…

"You are Father's daughter?" he asked, shocked and slightly put off. He was supposed to be Bruce Wayne's only child, only heir. It was bad enough that Grayson was the one currently holding the mantel and that he had to compete with Drake and that Todd was always somewhere running amuck. Now there was someone else that would try to take his place? Why wasn't he good enough? Why couldn't anyone see _him_? Damian fought the urge to react physically and show just how much this bothered him.

Nemo nudged him with her shoulder, causing him to whip around and glare at her. "Nemo is not part of the legacy," she said, smiling reassuringly, "The Bat just took care of her. He fixed her. She was broken before." She looked up into the empty eyes of the torn cowl. "But then he sent her away because it was too dangerous here. She never wanted to leave."

"Tt," Damian scoffed, "So you're just another charity case that Father took in. Typical."

"Did the Baby Bird want Nemo to be biologically related to him?" she asked, her tone holding nothing but pure curiosity.

Damian stopped. Was she really that threatening to him? Why did the thought of her being part of the family bother him so much? It was then that he realized that nothing was holding him in place, yet he remained under the cape. Strange.

"Of course not," Damian said with confidence he didn't feel, "Batman only needs one child."

Mentally, he winced at his words. He could picture the hurt expression on Grayson's face had he been the one he was talking to. Instead, Nemo just gave him a sad smile, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them.

"The Bat loves the Baby Bird because he is his. He will always be his. It makes him special," she said softly, "Even if he doesn't show it, the Bat loves him."

"Tt. You speak as if Father is still alive. You sound just like Drake," Damian said, secretly happy to be able to turn the conversation away from his insecurities.

Nemo sent him a level look, hazel eyes boring into him, looking through him. He suddenly felt as if he was an open book and she was reading him, but it vanished as a smirk crossed her lips. "Who said the Bat was dead?" she said, her eyes twinkling playfully.

"We buried his body," Damian deadpanned.

Nemo just hummed. "So stubborn," she sighed, "Definitely a family thing."

Damian glared at her, but before he could say anything, Dick walked in dressed in a plain t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants.

"Damian, you're back," he said, slightly surprised.

Damian rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

Nemo turned to Dick, and excited look in her eyes. "Kitten?" she asked.

Dick smiled and held out a ball of light gray fluff to the girl. "All nice and clean," he said.

She gingerly took the small bundle and ran her fingers through the now clean fur. Upon closer inspection, Damian could make out a pair of bright green eyes, a small nose, a tiny mouth, and little ears. Nemo giggled as the small creature nuzzled her fingers.

"So, Dami," Dick said, using the nickname that Damian hated and secretly loved in equal parts, "I see you've met Rachel."

"Rachel?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, "I thought her name was Nemo."

Dick shook his head. "That's just something she calls herself," he turned to Rachel, "Speaking of names, what are you gonna call the little guy?"

Rachel stopped and looked up at him, her lips turning into a slight frown. "Name?" she said slowly, carefully, as if the word could burn her. She pressed her lips in concentration before turning a hopeful face to Dick. "The Bird can name him," she said firmly.

Dick blinked. "You want me to name him?"

Rachel nodded, suddenly shy. "The Bird named Rachel. He is good at naming."

"Okay," Dick said, smiling.

Damian was only half listening to their conversation. The kitten had started pawing at the sleeve of his uniform and was getting ready to tumble out of Rachel's hands. Quickly, he brought his hands up, cupping them around hers. The action brought the pair's attention to him and he fought back the heat that rushed to his cheeks.

"It was going to fall," he mumbled.

Rachel gave a soft laugh. "The Kitten appears to like flying," she smiled, "Just like the rest of the Flock."

Dick grinned. "I got it," he said, reaching down to pet the kitten's head, "We can call the little guy Wings."

Wings arched up into Dick's nimble fingers, purring. Rachel smiled. "Wings," she said softly, as if testing the name.

"She appears to like it," Damian drawled, pretending that he didn't notice the way Wings pawed at his hands, "Now tell me Grayson, why are we naming his thing?"

"Because we're keeping it," was the matter-of-fact reply.

Damian blinked. "What?"

Rachel looked up at him. "Really?" she asked, sounding just like an excited child.

Dick nodded. "I talked to Alfred. He's also getting a room ready for you."

Rachel's eyes were practically glowing she was so happy.

"Wait," Damian said, turning to face his mentor, "She's staying with us?"

Dick leveled him with a look. "She has just as much right to be here as you do Damian."

"That's not what I—"

"Besides," Dick said, continuing as if he hadn't spoken, "You two seem to be getting along well enough." He smirked.

Damian fought the heat that rose in his cheeks, but knew he was losing, his skin becoming a rosy pink. "Shut up," he said as he sank down into the cape and closer to Rachel's side, instead of storming out of the room.

Dick smiled, surprised. Rachel handed Damian Wings and the small kitten made itself at home in his lap. "Awwww," Dick cooed, "Look Dami, he likes you."

Damian scoffed. "Of course. He clearly realizes who is superior here."

Dick pouted. "No need to be mean, Dami."

Rachel laughed.

And Damian felt his lips twitch up into a smile.

* * *

><p><strong>And so ends the chapter. Yay! Kitten has a name now! Thanks to hellgirl-fan1 for the name! ^^<strong>

**Please review! :D**

**~ Elri**


	4. Timothy's Discovery

**Hello beautiful people!**

**Time to update! Yay, new chapter! ^^**

**Anywho, this chapter takes place about a week or so after "Damian's Burden" and is the last chapter in what I like to call the "Introduction" arc. Which, clearly, is Rachel's meeting all of the Batboys. After this, the chapters will probably start to get really random. They'll all still be in the same universe. And don't worry, at some point, the Batgirls and Bruce will all make appearances at some point. Along with possible guest hero appearances, such as the Super family. But it depends. *shrugs* We'll see what happens.**

**So, without further adue, chapter 4!**

**Disclaimer: What is this stupidity?**

**ONWARD!**

* * *

><p>Timothy Drake was frustrated.<p>

And a little hurt. He had just learned that something important had been kept from him. Part of it was because Bruce had kept a secret from him, which in and of itself wasn't_ that_ surprising. But the other part was because _Dick_ had kept the secret from him as well. Tim didn't think Dick was even capable of keeping something like this from him, but then again, it was time like this that he had to remind himself that Dick _had_ been trained by the Bat as well and the he was the one who now wore the cowl.

Still, the knowledge made his chest tighten a little. He felt almost…betrayed. Which, logically, didn't make much sense because no one can ever know all of the Bat's secrets, and he should feel privileged to know as much as he did.

Perhaps he was just being childish, upset that he wasn't told. Or was it because he couldn't find any information? All of the files he found were so heavily encrypted, it would take him months to crack. Bruce really didn't want anyone to know about this.

Or maybe it was because of how he found out about all of this in the first place.

*x*x*

He had been visiting Titan's Tower when it happened.

Tim was working in his lab, busily typing away on his computer, when Superboy had walked – err, floated – into the room.

"Hey, Kon," he said, not looking away from what he was doing.

Kon sighed. "I will never understand how you do that."

Tim gave him an almost laugh. "It's a Bat thing."

Kon rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "About that…"

This time, Tim did look up. Kon looked nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot where he stood, expression a strange combination of guilt, confusion, and curiosity. Tim frowned. "What's wrong, Kon?"

The super clone took a deep breath. "Well…" he started slowly, apparently trying to choose the right words, "I think I found out something I wasn't supposed to." Tim raised an eyebrow. "A Bat kind of something."

Tim blinked. "Okay…" he said carefully. Not really sure where his friend was going with this.

Kon noted his friend's confusion and rushed on to explain. "Well I was at the Fortress and when I was there I overheard Clark talking to Dick and he sounded really upset and guilty and Dick sounded like he was dying and the Clark said that 'Rachel is gone' and I didn't even know there was a girl staying at the Fortress and then Dick said 'You lost my sister?' and Clark started apologizing and Dick got reeeeeeally quiet and it was kinda scary cause when he stared talking again, he sounded _just like_ Batman, the original one, and I almost peed myself, that's how bad it was, and it's been eating at me ever since cause it's kinda my fault too, cause I was at the Fortress and if we lost Dick's sister, that means we lost _your_ sister and I feel really bad, even though I really don't know anything about her and I don't think anyone has told you and I just wanted to say sorry and please don't kill me!"

Kon's words came out in a rush that gave Bart a run for his money. As soon as he was done, Kon had closed his eyes and curled in on himself, waiting for Tim's reaction.

But Tim just sat there, frozen, blue eyes wide in shock. "Sister?" he asked, so softly that if Kon didn't have supper hearing, he wouldn't have heard it.

Said clone peaked through his eyelashes and, upon seeing Tim's shock, slowly uncurled from his defensive stance and approached him. "Tim…?"

Tim's eyes suddenly snapped to his, narrowing. Kon stared right back, knowing that something was going on and his friend needed him. "Kon what do you mean 'sister'?"

And it was then that Kon realized that maybe Tim knew just as much as he did, or in this case, less. So he slowed down and told the story from the beginning, leaving nothing out and including any and all details he remembered, knowing that Tim would ask for them.

When he was done, Tim leaned forward, elbows up on the computer console, fingers laced together in front of his mouth. "Thank you for telling me, Kon," was Tim's soft reply after a long moment of silence.

Kon frowned a little, forehead creased with worry at how distant Tim was being. "Sure thing, man. Anytime."

It was then Tim decided to hack into the Batcave's computer. He needed to know more about this Rachel. He only found one file on her, but it was huge. It was also so heavily encrypted that he wouldn't get any information in a reasonable amount of time.

So that left one option.

*x*x*

Tim knocked on the front door to Wayne Manor and stood back, waiting for Alfred to answer. Moments later, Tim came face to face with the old butler.

"Master Timothy," he said, tone slightly scolding after quickly getting over his shock of seeing the third Wayne boy standing on the porch, "This is your home. There is no need for you to knock."

Tim smiled, though it was not entirely genuine. "Sorry Alfred," he said as he stepped through the door, "Is Dick here? I need to talk to him."

No sooner had the words left his mouth, when Dick appeared.

"Tim!" he said, a giant smile on his face as he scooped up the younger man into a crushing embrace. "It's good to see you! What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were with the Titans."

Tim untangled himself from Dick's arms and noticed from the corner of his eye Alfred leaving two of them alone to talk. "I came to talk to you," he said.

Dick eyebrows rose to his hairline. "Oh?"

Tim crossed his arms over his chest, his expression carefully blank. "Why didn't you ever tell me about Rachel?"

Tim watched as Dick seemed to freeze, how his eyes widened in shock and how his mouth went slack. Tim inwardly smirked at his surprise, but suddenly Dick's entire demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed and his back straightened and Tim knew immediately that he was dealing with the Bat. Though the reaction was unexpected, he refused to back down.

"How did you find out?" Dick asked. And Tim was surprised that it was still Dick's voice, soft and gentle, and not the dark, intimidating growl that matched his body language.

So Tim told him. Dick looked at him for a long moment before sighing. And just like that, the shadows were gone.

"It's not that we didn't trust you, Timmy," Dick said, his bright blue eyes tired, "It wasn't anything like that. We just wanted to protect her."

"Protect her?" Tim asked, managing to keep his voice clam and level, "No one even knows she exists!"

Dick just shook his head. "It's a long story, Tim. One that I don't like telling." It was then that Tim notice the haunted look in his eyes as he relived something from long ago. It made him stop. "But you're right," Dick continued, "You have a right to know. I'll give you the access codes to her file; it explains everything." Suddenly Dick paused, his solemn expression changing as his lips tugged into a slight smile and a chuckle escaped him. "In the meantime," he said, smile widening, "I think we've kept her waiting long enough."

Tim blinked, confused, but followed Dick when he led him to one of the many sitting rooms. Dick gestured for him to go in. "She's been wanting to meet you for a long time, little brother."

With that, Dick smiled and left, leaving him standing in front of the door. Cautiously, he entered to room. At first, it appeared as if no one was in it. But then he heard a soft chuckle come from the center of the room. Slowly, he walked around the couch.

On the floor, lying on her stomach, was a woman. She looked to be around Dick's age, or a few years older, but the way she held herself screamed child. She wore a pair of jeans and a dark purple t-shirt. Her feet were in the air, kicking back and forth as she swung her legs to and fro. Crisp white bandages covered her feet and Tim found himself wondering what happened. In front of her, was a small ball of light gray fluff. A kitten, lightly pawing at the slender fingers being dangled above its head. The smile on her face and the giggles escaping her lips made her seem young, much younger than she was.

So this was Rachel.

"Hello, Red Bird."

The soft, innocent voice snapped him from his thoughts and it took him a moment to realize where it had come from and who it was addressing.

Rachel had turned to him, smile growing wider, hazel eyes bright.

Tim gave her a small, polite smile. "Hello," he said, "You must be Rachel."

She nodded and rolled over, carefully lifting herself onto the couch, making sure her feet didn't touch the ground. She reached down and scooped up the kitten before patting the space next to her. Tim accepted the invitation and the two of them sat on the couch facing each other.

"Nemo has been looking forward to meeting the Red Bird," she said, smile still in place, "He is an interesting boy. So curious, so bright. And for the longest time, so innocent. And stubborn" She laughed softly, as if it was a joke that only she was in on. When it stopped, she gave him a sad look. "The Rad Bird is mad at the Bird and the Bat for keeping Nemo a secret from them."

Being the genius he was, it wasn't that hard for Tim to figure out who she was talking about. He was, however, surprised by her accusation. "What makes you say that?" he asked, voice even.

Rachel ran her fingers through the fur of the creature sitting in her lap. The kitten arched into her touch and purred. "When the Clone spoke of Nemo's disappearance, the Red Bird felt surprised and angry and…betrayed." When Tim opened his mouth, whether to confirm or deny, he wasn't sure, she added, "The Red Bird cannot hide anything from me. No one can."

She stated it as if were fact. Tim closed his mouth. They looked at each other for a while, silently analyzing. Tim noticed that Rachel's eyes seemed to cloud over and she frowned, worry creasing her brow. And then it was gone and her eyes focused on him again.

"Does Nemo frighten the Red Bird?" she asked softly, her voice and expression solemn.

Tim blinked, startled by the question. "What? Why would you ask that?"

Rachel shook her head, looking at the kitten in her lap as it tried to crawl up her stomach. "It is why the Bat and the Bird didn't want anyone to know about Nemo. People are scared of her. Because she is different. Because she knows things. Things she shouldn't." She sighed and looked up at him forlornly. "The Bat and the Bird didn't want Nemo to have to feel that rejection. They also didn't want anyone to find out about her abilities and try to use them for personal gain. They didn't want her to become a tool."

Tim frowned. "Rachel, you are a person. You shouldn't let anyone try to tell you otherwise."

Rachel smiled at him and Tim was surprised how warm the simple action made him feel. She shifted closer to him and reached out, cupping his cheek in her hand. Tim's eyes searched hers. "It really is very nice to meet the Red Bird," she said, pausing for a moment before adding in a whisper, "Nemo knows he can find the Bat."

Tim stared as she pulled back. "You…you don't think he's dead?" he asked, the 'like everyone else' hanging in the air between them.

She smirked. "Who said anything about death? Nemo's little brother should know better than that."

Tim found himself smiling. "Of course."

Rachel laughed and Tim found himself chuckling under his breath with her. He stopped when Rachel turned to the door, smiling. Tim followed her eyes and almost frowned when he saw Damian standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

Damian glared at him. "Drake," he said before turning to Rachel. "Pennyworth has set out Wings food."

Tim blinked. That was it? No yelling? No sarcastic comments?

Rachel took the kitten in her hands and kissed its head before handing it to Damian. "Okay. Be good," she said, tapping a pale fingertip against Wings's nose. She smiled up at Damian. "Keep him out of trouble, Baby Bird."

Damian scoffed. "Tt. Don't give me orders."

But he cradled the kitten close to his chest anyway, his scowl softening ever so slightly when Rachel reached up to ruffle his hair. He paid no mind to Tim as he walked out of the room.

"Whoa," Tim said after a moment. "He's…human."

Rachel giggled. "Yes."

"How did you do that?" Tim asked.

"Just talk to him," Rachel said, smiling softly, "All of the Birds have more in common than they would care to admit. But boys will be boys. And Batboys are quite stubborn."

Tim stared for a moment before a smirk broke out on his face. "It's a family thing."

Rachel threw her head back and laughed.

Tim laughed with her.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay! Yet another chapter complete! *pats self on back* Way to be accomplished! :D<strong>

**Please review!**

**~ Elri**


	5. Paint and Hidden Meanings

**Yay! New chapter!**

**Let the randomness begin! XD**

**This chapter is primarily a Damian chapter, the first and last parts are from his POV, you can tell by how characters are identified, i.e. last name. The Batgirls are mentioned in this chapter (only briefly, sorry) but last name. Just fyi, so you don't read it and be like, who?  
><strong>

**Warnings: Fluff, Damian being unusually emotionally observant (OOC, I know, didn't plan it that way, just kinda happened.), and more fluff.  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Still no.**

**ONWARD!**

* * *

><p>Damian blinked at the scene in front of him.<p>

He was aware that Rachel was moving into the Manor (she had already been there for ten days). He was aware that Drake had been staying at the Manor since his meeting with Rachel (He was assured that it was a temporary arrangement). He was also aware of Grayson helping Rachel set up her room. He knew this. He saw the supplies that Pennyworth seemed to pull out of thin air**[1]**; he saw all of the signs.

Yet, for some reason, he couldn't register what he was seeing.

The room itself was barren; all of the furniture had been removed and the floor had been covered in white tarps. Numerous paint cans filled with almost every color he could think of littered the floor, the walls covered in streaming ribbons of color. Rachel stood by one wall, dressed in a large, white, button down shirt that was most likely Grayson's seeing as she was practically drowning in it, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her legs bare and her feet finally without bandages. Her long, chocolate brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun in an attempt to keep it out of the paint, which she somehow managed to get _everywhere_. It was on her face, her hands, her arms, her legs, her shirt; she was a walking rainbow.

It was only then that Damian realized she wasn't using brushes or rollers to create her, admittedly, stunning wall mural, but rather, she used her hands. He watched as she dipped her slender fingers into a can of paint and smeared the color onto the white expanse of wall, blending it into a flowing tide with the rainbow already there. Grayson was close to her, sitting on the floor at her feet in an old t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, brush in hand as he smoothed in edges and painted the trim around the floor. Drake was on the other side of the room, dressed much like Grayson was, perched on a ladder as he edged in the ceiling.

Slowly, Damian let himself take in the now painted walls of Rachel's room. To an untrained eye, it would merely look like random splotches of color, staining the walls, a child's work, nothing more. And in a way, they would be right. But it was more than that. If you really _looked_ at the walls, you could see the symbolism behind each color, each shape, each blur.

If you really _looked_, you would see a giant blue bird, wings spread wide and welcoming, that couldn't be anyone but Grayson.

If you really _looked_, you could see a smaller, shyer, red bird to the blue bird's right that had to be Drake.

If you really _looked_, you could see another small bird, a green one, to the blue bird's left that was Damian.

If you really _looked_, you could see an energetic purple bird teasing the green one. Brown.

If you really _looked_, you could see a muted gray bird passively, but affectionately, watching the others. Cain.

If you really _looked_, you could see a bright yellow bird lovingly curled into the blue bird's side. Gordon.

If you really _looked_, you could see another bird, larger than the others, this one a dark crimson, some distance away from the group, alone and closed off. Todd.

If you really _looked_, you could see a smokey owl fondly watching over the birds like a parent watches their children. Pennyworth.

If you really _looked_, you could see a glowing cityscape behind the birds, the buildings and small, make-shift flock wrapped up tightly and protectively in the wings of a bat. Bruce. Father.

If you really _looked_, you could see the bright star of hope that glowed in every color, on every wall, even the ceiling.

If you really _looked_, you would _see_, and if you _saw_, you would _understand_.

But Damian knew that most people would just look at this room and see a mess of color, an explosion of chaos, a sea of confusion. And he knew, that in a way, they would be right. Because life wouldn't be life and Gotham wouldn't be Gotham without the mess and the chaos and the confusion. But he also knew that they were ignorant. Because they couldn't see the _people_, the_ unity_, the _family_, the _hope_, that was hidden underneath all of that mess and chaos and confusion. He knew most people wouldn't.

But he also knew that the people that mattered would.

*x*x*

Dick looked up from his work, stretching out his back and arms, and saw Damian standing in the doorway. He smiled in greeting.

"Hey, Dami!" he chirped.

The boy blinked and turned to him in an attempt to hide his jump. Dick mentally raised an eyebrow at that. Tim looked over from what he was doing, glancing between the two, before turning back to his work. How very like him. Rachel didn't stop what she was doing; she seemed to be in a trance of some kind, hands moving without any conscious thought.

Damian rolled his eyes as he entered the room, thin arms crossed over his small chest. "When you said you were going to paint the room, I didn't expect you to take a paint gun to the wall, Grayson."

Dick chuckled as he watched Damian's blue eyes flit across the mural yet again, the awe in them not completely hidden. "I never knew you had such a keen eye for art, Dami."

"Tt." Damian turned away, hiding his blush.

He saw Wings under the ladder, walking over the lids left abandoned on the floor, leaving a colorful trail of paw prints in his wake. The small kitten seemed fascinated and frustrated in equal parts with the paint, pawing at the color, oblivious to the trail he was leaving behind him. Tim saw this and chuckled.

Damian scowled. "I do not see the point of all this," he said, gesturing to the now painted walls.

Dick just smiled. "I told Rachel she could paint her room however she wanted," he replied, "This is what she came up with." The eldest bird watched as _something_ flashed in the youngest's eyes and _knew_ that he saw the hidden meaning. He said nothing though, keeping such thoughts to himself, and smiled at his brother. "Lighten up, Dami. Have some fun."

Tim snorted. "Him? Having fun? Does he know what it is?"

Damian glared at him. "I'm right here, Drake."

"A fact I am all too aware of," Tim mocked. Dick merely sighed and shook his head as Tim continued, "You know, you could listen to Dick more often, he knows what he's talking about. Most of the time."

Dick raised an eyebrow in feigned offense. "_Most_ of the time?"

Tim hummed in agreement before continuing to address Damian. "Hard to believe, I know. But you might actually learn something."

Damian rolled his eyes. "Tt. I doubt it."

"Hey!" Dick protested.

Before he could get any further, however, Tim had leaned over and drew his brush over Damian's cheek, leaving a broad trial of color behind. Damian's eyes widened to a comic degree and Tim sat back, a smirk playing across his lips. Next thing Dick knew, the pair of them were flinging paint at each other, shouting insults (among other things) that, more often than not, were too light-hearted to have any real bite.

It all came to crashing halt though, when the can of paint that had been on the ladder fell, spilling onto the wall. Damian froze, eyes wide in horror, Tim's expression mirroring his. And Dick couldn't help it; he laughed. His brothers turned their wide-eyed look to him, something close to anger flashing in their eyes. Why the heck was this funny? They had just ruined Rachel's hard work!

Turning back to the wall however, they blinked in surprise. The paint was dripping down the wall, the mural behind it untouched, and back into the can that lay discarded on the floor. Suddenly the pair felt something thick and sticky pour over them, making them shriek in surprise. Tim was suddenly covered in red, Damian, in green. They turned and saw Rachel standing behind them, arms crossed over her chest, a smirk on her face. Dick howled with laughter behind them.

"They are lucky that Nemo can protect what she creates, is that not so, Bird?" she asked, gleaming hazel eyes never leaving Tim and Damian. Dick snorted, but otherwise didn't acknowledge her.

"Telekenisis," Tim breathed in realization. Rachel nodded.

Damian glared at Dick as he rolled on the floor. Grabbing a can of paint, that just so happened to be blue, he dumped it over the second Batman.

Dick bolted up, sputtering and spitting. "Dami!" he whined, "You got it in my mouth!"

"Deal with it, Grayson."

Rachel and Tim started laughing, doubling over and holding their stomachs. Dick's eyes narrowed as he grabbed the nearest can of paint, a pale lavender, and tossed the sticky color at them. Tim sees and manages to dodge in time. Rachel however, stays still, her front drenched in purple as she remains laughing like nothing happened. When she stops, still grinning, she reaches down and dips her hands into a can of paint, before smirking and flinging it at the boys.

And just like that, it's war. They're shrieking and yelling and laughing and throwing and running. Dick turns Tim's arms yellow, Damian turns Dick's chest orange, Tim turns Rachel's legs green, Rachel turns Damian's hair blue. It goes on and on, paint splashing and colors flying. Any paint the spatters the walls or windows slides harmlessly to the floor, the white tarp now a mess of color.

The sound of someone clearing their throat makes them all freeze. The four turn to see Alfred standing in the doorway, eyebrow cocked, Wings held securely in one hand by the scruff of his neck. The once light gray ball of fluff is now a dripping mess of color. He mews innocently, not bothering to try and escape Alfred's hold on him.

"I found him wandering the halls," Alfred said crisply, "He left quite a mess behind him."

Rachel smiled and got off the floor, taking Wings from the butler and nuzzled her face into the kitten's fur regardless of the paint.

Dick smiled. "Sorry, Alfie. We'll clean it up."

"Indeed," was the brisk reply, "Now, dinner is in a few hours and I want this cleaned up before then. Chop, chop."

"Yes, Alfred," the boys chorused while Rachel giggled.

She waved as he walked out of the room. "Bye-bye," she said.

With surprising speed, the four cleaned up their mess (though Tim and Damian making a competition out of it helped; they did most of the work) and showered. Dick helped Rachel wash her hair and give Wings a bath. Later, sometime after dinner, Dick was looking for Damian so they could go on patrol. He found him in the doorway to Rachel's room. He was just standing there, just staring. Just _looking_.

Dick came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't jump this time, or turn to face him. He was silent. Dick waited.

"Is that how she sees us?" Damian asked after a moment.

Dick hummed in thought. "Perhaps," he said, "I don't think any of us can really understand how she views anything. But," he paused and gave Damian a smile when the boy turned to look up at him, "yes, I do think that is how she sees us."

Damian turned back to the room. "It's…" he trailed off, his words seeming to fail him.

Dick squeezed his shoulder. "I know."

*x*x*

That night when they returned from patrol, the Dynamic Duo found Rachel waiting for them. She hugged Dick, welcoming him home, before moving over to Damian. She stood before him, not moving, a smile on her lips. Damian looked back at her. Dick tactfully left the cave, announcing he was going to take a shower and go to bed. When he was gone, Damian spoke.

"I like," he paused, trying to form the sentence in his mind, trying to find the right words, "your room. I am…honored, to be included." His voice was soft, quieter than a whisper.

Rachel's smile grew and she wrapped him up in a hug, her arms holding him with a tenderness he had never experienced before. Her hugs were different from Grayson's, he couldn't quiet place how, but they were. She pressed a kiss to his dark hair and whispered soothingly, but honestly and powerfully, to him.

His arms came to wrap around her waist, lightly hugging back.

"_The honor is Nemo's, Baby Bird."_

* * *

><p><strong>Kay! So chapie's done. Sorry there's no Jason, I know some of you have been asking for him. But he'll be in the next one, promise!<strong>

**[1] - Because lets face it, ALFRED IS MAGIC.  
><strong>

**Sooooooooooooooooo, yep. That's pretty much it. Please review!**

**~ Elri**


	6. Pale Tears

**So I hadn't planned on writing this for a while, I mean I had it planned out and everything, but I had other, more important things (like school work) to be doing. But then I was listening to music, and the songs tht started play reminded me of this chapter's plot and as much as I tried to resist, the motivation WOULD NOT GO AWAY.**

**So now we have a brand new chapter. And I believe it is the longest one yet. O.O  
><strong>

**Sigh, I really need to be more productive with my school work.**

**Anywho, this is a Jason chapie, just like I promised. ^^**

**Warnings: mentions of death and torture, angst and a little fluff (...angstyfluff?), and Alfred being a ninja**

**Disclaimer: ...no comment**

**ONWARD!**

* * *

><p>Rachel ran through the streets of the East Side as fast as her legs would carry her.<p>

She'd snuck out again. Left while Dick and Damian were out on patrol. She knew that Dick would be mad, that he'd be worried when he found out. But this wasn't something that could be ignored. On the plus side, she'd put some shoes on before running out the door; Dick wouldn't have to worry about her feet again.

She felt a powerful surge of emotion run through her veins; something she rarely felt because of the countless voices screaming of their own desires and dreams and pains and woes, something that reminded her she was human. Her own emotions. Ones that were generated by her and not someone else. It was so rare for them to override everything else. But when they did, she listened.

And right now she wished, oh how she wished, that she had the speed of a Flash right now because _she wasn't running fast enough_. Because the emotion (the one that was _hers_ and hers _alone_) that was screaming in her veins was _fear_. It was powerful, dangerous…_deadly_.

It was a fear of anything and everything. She fought away the images that flashed behind her eyes, both past and present, real and imagined. She feared she wouldn't make it in time, that it would be too late. But she feared who she was running toward as well. She had not seen him in years and did not care to see him again. But she was going to have to face up to her fears.

For him.

Because he was family and she loved him. Because he was in pain and she wanted to heal him. Because she was never there for him. Because she never had a chance to be. But now she did have a chance. And she was not going to waste it.

So she ran, paying no mind to her surroundings, how much the cold air burned her lungs. She threw open the door to the abandoned factory, ran down the hall, not stopping for even a second. She heard the laughter echoing off the walls and felt a sick satisfaction that wasn't hers rise in her chest over her fear. She ran faster.

She burst into the room, neither occupant seeming to notice her in the heat of the moment, and slammed her body into his just as his finger pulled the trigger. The shot echoed into the silence, the surprise, as it sailed passed its target. They landed in a heap on the floor, him dazed underneath her, her panting heavily on top of him. She felt him blink behind his mask, felt the surprise, the shock, the…blankness.

And then the laughter started again.

Suddenly, he was furious, shoving her off him as he stood. "You!," he growled, forcefully pushing her away, making her land on the ground with a heavy thud that knocked the miniscule amount of air in her lungs away, "What the hell are you doing here?"

She looked up at him blankly, struggling to regain her breath, to reign in the emotions. Her fear. His anger.

"Oooooo, lookie here, Hoody. Looks like you got a little friend."

That voice. _That voice_. It was _his_. The Clown.

Jason rounded on him. "Shut up!" he roared.

Rachel sat up, her breathing finally somewhat normal. She watched as Jason started to approach the Joker again. She forced herself to her feet and stood in front of him, her back to him as she stared down at the Joker. The Clown's wrists and ankles were bound and he was bruised and battered. She shut her eyes as the images of a crowbar being brought down over and over again surfaced in her mind.

"Get out of my way."

Jason's voice was low and dangerous. He was angry. And right now, he would have no qualms about harming her. But she refused to move. She held her ground and when he made to go around her, she grabbed his wrist. He tensed and started to pull away, but she held fast, her eyes opening and locking on the Joker, her lips pressed in a thin, white line.

Jokers laughing calmed, finally, and he looked at them. _Really_ looked. He cocked his head to the side. "Do I know you?" he asked curiously, almost innocently. Jason froze and Rachel felt him glance at her, felt some of his anger give way to curiosity. "Because you look awfully familiar." Rachel said nothing as the Joker spoke, using her energy instead to keep Jason from rushing the Clown. A look of realization dawned on his chalk-white face. And he laughed. "Nemo!" he practically squealed, "It's so good to see you! It's been years now! Haven't seen you since Batsie and the first Boy Blunder stole you away from me. Ah, memories."

Jason had gone completely still beside her. She submerged herself in the sea of voices, letting them pull her away, her face becoming a blank mask. Her only outward reaction was her hand tightening its grip on Jason's wrist.

Joker sighed, disappointed. "You know, I never did get you to smile." He threw his head back and laughed.

Jason didn't move. Rachel chanced a look at him, her mind focusing on his. He realized this was something more than her stopping him from taking a life. So she let him go. She turned her attention back to the Clown. "Nemo will never smile for the Clown," she said, her voice soft, and almost timid, but powerful.

Joker made a disappointed sound. "Tsk, tsk, Nemo. I that anyway to treat your family? You haven't been home to Arkham in don't even write!"

Rachel's hands clenched at her sides. "The Asylum is not Nemo's home," she said as calmly as she could. Without Jason's anger to override her own emotions, her fear was rising up again. She felt Jason's warmth behind her. She tried to focus on him, his mind. For all its chaos, it was quieter, safer.

Jason was surprisingly quiet. That girl he had met in the alley, well over a month ago, had charged in and just stopped him from killing the Joker. The girl – what was her name again? Right, Rachel. – Rachel seemed determined to keep him from finishing the job to. He was furious, almost as furious as he had been with Bruce when he first found out that the Joker was still alive. He just didn't understand how anyone could justify his existence. So he yelled and shouted and screamed and…the Joker knew Rachel. They had a history, it seemed. That made Jason pause. He stood back and watched and listened as the two conversed. He noticed how tense Rachel was, noticed the tightness of her grip on his wrist before he was released, how she seemed to be fighting the urge to curl into herself, how her fingers twitched every time the Joker opened his mouth.

He didn't know why, but he stayed close to her, letting them talk.

Joker sighed, like he was a parent being incredibly patient with a child's questions. "Nemo, Nemo, Nemo," he said shaking his head, "You were practically born there! And everyone in the big, happy Arkham family got to watch you grow up! Why I remember when you were just a wee little thing, only came up to my knee you did—"

"Stop," Rachel whispered, her hair falling in her face.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Joker asked, "No? Well now, where was I? Oh yes, you were so cute! But you never smiled! But when I tried to be a good Uncle J and get you to smile the first Dynamic Duo has to go and ruin our fun. Maybe we should try again. We never did get to finish," his smile suddenly grew and Rachel made the mistake of looking into his eyes, "Why don't you smile for me?" He laughed.

Rachel gasped and took a step back, her body pressing into Jason's chest, as images flooded her mind. The memories. And the fantasies. She felt the cool steel of the table she was strapped to, the sharp bite of the ropes on her wrists and ankles. She saw the smile, heard the laugh. There was gas, there was pain, but no screams; she didn't know how. She hunched over, her head in her hands as she tried to force the images away, sinking to her knees as her blank façade cracked and fell away. She remembered the sharp sting of metal meeting flesh, the burn of acid, the smell of copper, the sick twisted smile, the blood, all of the blood, and the red, so much red, everything had been redredredredredredred_red_—

"_Why don't you smile for me?"_

A strangled sound fought its way out of her throat and mingled with his laugh. She became dimly aware of Jason kneeling next her.

"Stop it," she said, body and voice shaking, "Stop it. Stop laughing. Stop it, stop it, stop it, !"

She screamed then and everything crashed down on her. Her hands clenched and she felt something wet on her cheeks. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She lost herself, lost control.

Jason watched in shock as the Joker was suddenly flung back into the wall by an invisible force. He hit hard, leaving a spider web of cracks. He remained pinned to the wall as pipes emerged from beneath the floor and wrapped around his body, holding tightly, leaving no room to move or escape. Rachel is on all fours, panting heavily. And Joker is still laughing.

She pushed herself to her feet, running from the room without a glance at the Clown or Jason.

Jason gets up, picking his gun up off the floor, and strides toward the still laughing…_thing_ (Because Jason refuses to address him as anything that sounds even remotely human). He presses the barrel of his gun to the Joker's forehead.

The Clown smirks at him. "You gonna do it this time?"

Jason's finger twitches on the trigger. And as much as he wants to…

Jason hits him across the face with the barrel of the gun, easily knocking him out and breaking his jaw in one move. He took a tracer out of his jacket and changed its frequency to match the Bats.

And then he left.

*x*x*

He found her sitting on the roof top of an abandoned build in four blocks away.

He approached her cautiously, stopping a few feet away from her. She's sitting on the edge, feet dangling off, swinging back and forth, head bowed. Jason didn't know why he followed her; he didn't even know why _she_ tried to stop him or how she even _knew_ where he was. But she had made it painfully obvious that she was not a normal human. So maybe that explained it. But not why he followed her. She had seemed traumatized by being in the same room as the Joker, like seem knew _exactly_ what he was capable of.

He was snapped from his thoughts by a small voice, the smooth, soothing sound almost lost in the wind. Jason inched closer.

"The world seems not the same, though she knows nothing has changed. It's all her state of mind. She can't leave it all behind; she has to stand up to be stronger," Rachel's voice was soft as she sang, washing over him like a cool tide. "Have to try, to break free from the thoughts in her mind, use the time that she has, she can't say goodbye, have to make it right. Have to fight, 'cause she knows in the end it's worthwhile. That the pain that she feels slowly fades, it will be alright." Jason realized then that she was rocking back and forth, almost like she was trying to comfort herself with her own song. Which, with a startlingly clear start that left him reeling, was exactly what she was doing.

"Oh, this night is too long, have no strength to go on, no more pain, she's floating away," Rachel's voice dipped some, a tremor fighting its way to the surface, "Through the mist she sees the face, of an angel, calls her name; she remembers they're the reason she has to stay. Have to try, to break free from the thoughts in her mind, use the time that she has, she can't say goodbye, have to make it right. Have to fight, 'cause she knows in the end it's worthwhile. That the pain that she feels slowly fades, it will be alright."

Her voice fades as Jason takes a seat next to her. He doesn't look at her; she doesn't look at him. They both just sit, surrounded by the night. Finally, Rachel draws in a shuddering breath, whether from the cold or turmoil, Jason couldn't tell.

"The Clown was telling the truth. About Nemo staying in Arkham," she said softly. Jason turns to her then and sees the haunted, bitter smile that pulls at her lips.

"Yeah?" Jason asks casually, leaning back on his hands and turning to face the city, "What'd you do?"

"She was born."

The answer was so crisp and clear and said so _easily_, that Jason's head snapped to her in shock. Her face was blank as she looked up at the starless sky. "Nemo was different," she continued, "So her parents sent her away. To the Asylum. Because she scared them. And there she stayed. Till the Clown took her away." Jason saw her shoulders tense and her hands clench. "He wanted Nemo to smile."

Jason didn't really need to ask what she meant by that; he could guess. And none of it was anything even remotely pretty. If he was someone unaccustomed to pain and suffering, he might have gasped or flinched or _something_, but sadly, he knew what it was like. All too well. So he said nothing, didn't protest about how inhumane it was or try to provide false comfort about how everything would be alright. Because he knew it wasn't that easy.

"And then Daddy-Bats and Dickie-bird swooped in and saved the day," Jason said, his tone sounding light-hearted to any outsider, but the bitterness and understanding clear as day to an insider. He saw her lips twitch into a small, genuine smile and for whatever reason found himself counting it as a victory.

Finally, for the first time since her appearance that night, she looked at him, her eyes meeting his behind the mask. Slowly, cautiously, she reached up and undid the locks that held his helmet in place. And he let her. He didn't know why, but he let her. And when the helmet was lifted away, he let her tug off the domino mask. She held it in her lap, staring at it for a moment before looking back up at him. She reached out and placed a hand on his cheek, slender, delicate fingers gently caressing. Her expression was somewhat hopeful, but resigned at the same time.

"Coming home," she sang softly, her eyes never leaving his, "Coming home, tell the world he's coming home. Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday. Let him know his kingdom awaits and they've forgiven his mistakes. Coming home, coming home, tell the world that he's coming home."

Jason's eyes slid shut as he felt that familiar long rise up in his chest. He forced it back and reached up, taking Rachel's wrist and tugging her hand away from his face. "I can't," he said.

Rachel's face was sad, but accepting. She leaned into him, much to his surprise, and clung to his shirt. She was shaking, he realized as he felt something wet seep into his shirt. And crying. His hands came to rest on her shoulders of their own accord as he let her release and give into the trauma of the night's events.

*x*x*

Jason carried Rachel's sleeping form into the Batcave, helmet and mask back in place. His jacket was wrapped around her thin frame, her small hands holding it in place in a death grip. He quickly made his way to the Batcomputer (Seriously, Dick?), intent on placing her in the large chair and leaving before he was caught.

Alas, Fate had something else in mind.

"I believe, Master Jason, that Mistress Rachel will be much more comfortable in her bed."

Jason immediately straightened and turned, coming face to face with the old butler that kept everyone in their strange, insane, messed up family from falling apart.

"Alfred," he breathed when he recovered from his shock (really, Alfred was the only one that could sneak up on any of them at any given time), "I…"

Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "Surely, Master Jason, you do not expect an elderly man such as myself to carry Mistress Rachel up to the house?"

Jason had a sneaking suspicion that that expectation wasn't that far out there, but no one could argue with Alfred. "No," he grumbled.

"Very good, sir. This way."

Alfred led him upstairs to Rachel's room, opening the door for him. Jason stepped in, missing how Alfred suddenly and silently slipped away. He froze at the sight that greeted him. Rachel's walls were a mural. Of their family. His eyes fell on the crimson bird and his grip tightened unconsciously on Rachel's slumbering form. She shifted and he immediately relaxed, crossing the room and laying her down on the bed. He frowned at the grip she had on his jacket before sighing, resigned. He pulled the covers over her, tucking them snuggly around her, and brushed a few stray locks of hair out of her face before turning to leave.

He was almost at the door, home free, when Alfred appeared again. Wordlessly, the butler handed over a package. It didn't really take a genius to figure out that it contained a home cooked meal (or several), medical supplies, and what have you. He reached out slowly and accepted it, eyebrow arched in question, even though Alfred couldn't see it behind the helmet.

"Regardless of what you may believe," he said, "This is your home, Master Jason, and you are welcome here. Always."

Jason stared at him for a moment, eyes wide behind the mask, before he nodded slowly. Then he turned, package tucked under his arm, and opened the door.

"Seeya, Alf," he said and paused a beat before adding, "…and thanks."

Alfred smiled. "Anytime, sir."

And with that Jason disappeared into the night.

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><p><strong>Dawwwwwwwwww, isn't Jay just precious? X3<strong>

**Anywho the songs in this chapter were Pale by Withing Temptation and Coming Home by P. Diddy. Yep. Soooooo, that's it. I have to admit that I am rather impressed with myself. I liked how this came out. Agree? Disagree? Review!**

**Till next chapter! ^^**

**~ Elri**


	7. Angel with a Shotgun

**Hi guys!**

**So this chapie is a bit of a continuation of "Pale Tears," kinda the family's thoughts on Jason (but he isn't actually in the chapter). **

**Inspired by: Angel with a Shotgun by the CAB**

**I heard the lyrics for this song and my mind just kept saying Jason over and over again, and it made me think of how Rachel's view on him differs from everyone else's in some way, shape, or form. But enough of that.**

**Warnings: Damian acting like a kid (GASP, What?), Tim being slightly bitter about past encounters with Jason (i.e getting the snot beat out of him), Rachel being sneaking and awesome, Wings being the cute, adorable little ball of fluff that he is.**

**Disclaimer: ...still no...**

**ONWARD!**

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><p>"I'm sorry, could you say that again?" Tim's shocked voice came from the monitor.<p>

Dick ran a hand over his face and sighed. He was down in the Batcave talking to Tim, who was currently on the other side of the world doing who knows what (well, Rachel knew, but that was beside the point).

"She's been wearing Jason's jacket," he said again.

Tim's image blinked at him on the screen. "Yeah, you have some explaining to do," the younger deadpanned.

Dick sighed again and rubbed his temples. "Right. Well apparently, Rachel snuck out. Again. And when she came back, Jason was carrying her. According to Alfred. Damian and I were on patrol at the time."

"…Why do I feel like there's more to this story?"

"Last night, Jason left a tracer leading to the Joker's location," Dick answered, "When we arrived, Joker was pinned to the wall with the _plumbing_."

Tim's eyebrows shot up. "Rachel's telekinesis?"

"That would be my guess," Dick said, nodding.

"So you're worried about…?"

"The fact that Rachel has met with Jason _twice_ now and that she's run into the Joker."

"Well," Tim said, "and I can't believe these words are coming out of my mouth, I think if Jason was going to hurt her, he would have done so by now."

"Call the press," Dick said teasingly, "Timothy Drake defends Jason Todd."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Hardy-har-har." He leaned back and laced his fingers together in front of his face. "I have theory, but I'm pretty sure you won't like it."

"If you're talking about Rachel trying to integrate Jason back into the family, then I know about that one already," Dick said casually, waving his hand dismissively.

Tim blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Geez, little brother. And you're supposed to be the smart one."

Tim glared a little before shaking his head. "Never mind. She went out to stop Jason from killing the Joker."

Dick ran a hand through his hair. "I figured as much," he said after a moment, "But I really wished she had called one of us instead."

"Dick, she can't avoid it forever," Tim pointed out bluntly, but gently, "She lives there now. She was going to run into him sooner or later."

"I'd rather it have been later," Dick grumbled.

"She chose to go, Dick. No one made her. It was her decision."

Dick sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I know, Timmy. I know."

*x*x*

No matter how long Damian stared, he just couldn't wrap his head around it.

Rachel was wearing a leather jacket that Damian _knew_ was Todd's. She drowned in Grayson's clothes, but Todd's practically ate her. Damian didn't understand how she could wear his clothes. He turned his back on Father's code, left the family. _He killed people_.

_But_, said a voice in the back of his mind, _you're not entirely innocent of that either_.

Damian forced away the memories of the numerous dead by his hand from his mind. That was the al Guhl way. A way he had left behind, a way that had left him. His mother had disowned him; he was now an enemy of the al Guhl line. It had abandoned him, just as he had abandoned it. It was odd really, because of the Demon's way, he had been shown another path. Because of his mother, he met the Bat, his father. The Bat held firm to his laws, laws that Damian learned. He was more than an al Guhl now. He was a Wayne. He was his Father's son. He would not cross that line again.

Rachel looked up from what she was doing and smiled at him. She gestured to him, nodding to the space on the couch next to her. He sat and Wings climbed into his lap. He ran a hand over the little ball of fluff and he purred contently. Rachel giggled and leaned into Damian's side, resting her head on his. This close, Damian could smell the smoke, the gunpowder, the leather,_ Gotham_, on the jacket. A scent, he decided then and there, that was distinctly _Jason_.

He was startled by his train of thoughts, even more so when Rachel pressed a light kiss to his temple. She smiled down at him. "Our family is complicated, Baby Bird," she said, "It is more than names and numbers, sacrifices and soldiers. We are bound to each other, whether we will admit it or not."

Damian was silent for a moment, contemplative, before speaking. "Why are you so adamant about this?"

Rachel's expression became thoughtful, her lips pressed in a thin line as she thought. She looked at her lap, fingers absently tugging at the dark leather. "For a long time, Nemo had nothing, was nothing. Until the Bat and the Bird found her and made her a _person_ not a _thing_. She became something that day. So did every member of the Flock, the day they stumbled on the Legacy. It changes them, makes them part of something bigger. It holds us together, no matter how much we might fight it or how much it tears us down."

"So you think Todd is still part of the…family," he stumbled over the last word, it felt weird on his lips, stating, more than asking.

Her reply was soft, gentle. But it resonated in his very core. "Forever and always."

*x*x*

It had been a rough night.

For various reasons.

One could say it was because of the bullet hole that was currently in Damian's left thigh. Though Tim's timely intervention had prevented any further damage to the current Robin, he would have to stay off his leg for at least a week. _A week_. In Damian's book, this was pretty high up there on the list of reasons on why tonight sucked.

For Tim and Dick though, the reason was different.

Yes, they were upset Damian got shot (Dick more so than Tim).

But that was not the reason for the tension in the Cave. Far from it.

The Red Hood.

Jason Todd.

Jason had shown up tonight, after week of inactivity (excluding the Joker incident eight days ago). And now, five people were dead. They were just nameless thugs, drug dealers, not some big shot Arkham baddie. But they were dead. Their blood staining the already crimson-tainted streets of Gotham, their bodies still and cold. And, for Rachel, their minds silent. They could have had other lives, families to take care of, children depending on them. But it didn't matter now. Because they were dead. There was no changing it.

The air in the Cave was solemn, heavy.

"This needs to stop," Tim said quietly, his voice carrying in the silence.

"Well when you figure out a brilliant solution, I'm all ears," Dick snapped, but there was little bite. He was tired. They were all tired.

"We have to put him away, Dick," Tim said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You actually think Arkham or Blackgate could hold him?"

Damian listened to the former Robins go back and forth, gently massaging his tender thigh, Rachel's words running through his head. He understood their connection, really he did. They were all part of the Legacy. He got that. But Jason had turned his back on it. Why did Rachel think he was still part of it? Why did Grayson and Drake have such a hard time figuring out how to deal with him? Damian was used to black and white, he preferred it that way. It was simpler then. But Jason was all shades of gray.

"He's an Angel with a shotgun."

The Cave fell silent. The three birds turned to see Rachel standing at the foot of the stairs. Wearing Jason's jacket. None of them had to ask who she was talking about.

Tim's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about? And how can you keep wearing that even though you _know_ what he's done?" Tim's voice was bitter, almost angry. But there was an underlying sadness in it.

Wordlessly, she walked over to Damian and carefully placed a hand over his wounded thigh. She frowned, thoughtful for a moment, before scooping him up with a strength none of them realized she possessed. She linked her hands together under Damian's bottom as she balanced him on her hip like a small child. Surprised, Damian's hands latched onto her shoulders, his training the only thing keeping him from crying out. They all stared at her. Damian was more than half her size. And here she was, holding him like a toddler. The small mew alerted them to the fact that Wings was at her feet, twining between her legs.

"That is enough for tonight," Rachel said, finally speaking and ignoring Tim's questions, "The Flock grows tired. Enough."

With that, she walked up the stairs, Damian tucked securely in her arms. The boy stared at Dick and Tim as they ascended the stairs, blue eyes wide. The older males glanced at each other before following, already dressed down in sweats, Tim scooping up Wings as they went (It was a lot easier going down the stairs than it was up.).

When they reached the top, they found Rachel and Damian in the sitting room, Rachel arranging Damian's legs carefully on the couch. It was quite for a long moment before Dick finally broke the silence.

"What did you mean down in the cave, Rachel?" Dick asked.

"Exactly what she said. He's an Angel with a shotgun."

Wings squirmed out of Tim's hold, dropping silently to the floor and padding his way over to the girl.

"How is _he_ an _angel_?" Tim asked, expression angry, "He's a murderer!"

Dick flinched slightly at the word. Damian looked between him and Rachel, expression surprised, confused, and child-like.

Rachel merely stared back at Tim, hands absently stroking Wings. "He's an _Angel _with a shotgun," she said again, purposely stressing the word, "Fighting till the war is won. He doesn't care if heaven won't take him back. They say before you start a war, you better know what you're fighting for. Sometimes to win, you've got to sin. So until the war is won, his wings remain hidden from the sun."

Silence rang out in the room as three pairs of blue eyes stared at Rachel in shock.

"The men tonight had no families," Rachel continued on, "They were ruthless, brutal men. Three of them were convicted killers, but all of them had silenced at least on mind. Four of them were rapists, one of them raped children, boy and girl. Two of them participated in a human trafficking ring." She paused and looked up at them, her expression carefully blank, even though all three of them knew that she had seen, felt, heard the events she had just described take place. "What the Flock seems not to understand is that the Stray Bird is not a mindless killing machine. He kills those who are tainted, those past the point of forgiveness, those who have crossed the line to many times. But never an innocent. He knows, _makes sure_ he knows, every life he takes. And he lives with it. Nemo is not saying she supports it. She doesn't. But he is righting the world in his own way." Rachel stood, Wings nestled against her chest. "And he is family. That is why Rachel wears his jacket."

She cupped Damian's cheek, tilting his head up to plant a light kiss on his forehead before walking over to Tim and Dick. She smiled at them, a small, gentle smile, and gave them each a kiss on the cheek. Then, silently, she left the room, leaving the boys to their thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>Sooooooooooooooo...I actually feel like this one is kinda short...oh well. Just meant to be thought provoking. Review! ^^<strong>

**~ Elri**


	8. Charity Gala

**Hey, everybody. **

**First off, I would like to apologize for my EXTREMELY long absence. I had been having major computer troubles, which took a turn for the worst the moment I was getting ready to do a binge update to apologize. My computer crashed and I ended up having to whip the hard drive, meaning I lost all of that work. I'm trying to recreate everything as best I can...I suppose the bright side is I already have an idea what I'm writing about, I guess, but still...FML. All that work...*cries in corner TT^TT*  
><strong>

**Anywho, I'm going to start posting things again, so yay!  
><strong>

**Now on with the chapter!  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: Still nothing.  
><strong>

**Warnings: Rachel being Nemo.**

* * *

><p><strong>Charity Gala<strong>

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Dick?" Tim asked, watching the scene before him with slight apprehension.

"Not at all," Dick said.

Tim spun around to face him. "_What?_"

Dick sighed. "She insisted. And you know that if we said no, she would just do it anyway. This way, we at least have some control over the situation."

Tim frowned. "Dick, Joker _saw_ her. He _recognized_ her. He knows who she is. Letting her do this would be like painting a giant target on her chest!" he hissed softly so that only Dick could hear him.

Dick's face hardened, his lips pressing into a thin line. Tim paused, his brow furrowed, unsure how to interpret his reaction. Dick's arms crossed over his chest as he released a long breath. "She says she's taken care of it."

Tim's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"

Dick just looked at him and gave very slight shrug.

"Rachel, this is absolutely ridiculous. What is the point of—"

"It looks pretty."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever had the misfortune of hearing."

"Not stupid. Pretty."

"Tt. You're impossible."

Dick and Tim returned their attention to the scene in front of them. Damian stood, arms crossed over his narrow chest, in a black suit with a bright green tie around his slim throat. He was scowling at the overgrown-child of a woman in front of him, who was smiling innocently back at him. Rachel wore a simple, but elegant, strapless white gown that fell to her ankles. A beaded, white sash hung on her hips, a silver clip held it in place at her front. A silver chain at her throat, a silver band on her wrist, and silver hoops in her ears were her only other decorations. Her chocolate hair fell around her shoulders in a cascade of ringlets. In her hands, she held a pair of heeled, white sandals.

Dick raised an eyebrow at the sight of the heels. "Can you walk in those?"

Rachel gave him a deadpan look. "Yes."

Damian rolled his eyes. "I am not going to be responsible for this walking disaster."

*x*x*

Dick kept his arm wrapped securely around Rachel's waist as they entered the gala. Guests and reporters alike swarmed them, both to greet the Wayne boys as well as to meet their mystery companion. To her credit, Rachel kept a polite smile plastered on her face, though the small twitches he kept seeing at the corner of her lip revealed her discomfort. Dick silently thanked Alfred for administering her medication to her that morning; without it, he doubted Rachel would have been able to last in a crowd like this.

Dick pulled her away from the reporters, trusting Tim and Damian to take care of them. Rachel relaxed slightly as they moved further into the room; various business associates came over and greeted him, looking over Rachel with a critical eye only to be charmed by her innocent smile. She was silent for the most part, only speaking when necessary and in soft tones. As he night progressed, Rachel relaxed, talking with the other guests with ease. As a result, the three vigilantes relaxed as well.

They didn't realize just how much they had relaxed, however, until it came to Dick's attention that Rachel was missing. Tim noted that Damian was missing as well. The possibility that Damian was with Rachel loosened the knot in his stomach tightly, only for it to tighten again when he noticed several of the guests with children were looking for their missing charges.

"Damian, where are you?" Dick hissed into his communicator (And, no, he is not paranoid, it was only a precaution), Tim standing next to him, eyes scanning the crowd.

"_Relax, Grayson_," the voice of the youngest Wayne came over the communicator, "_And before you start nagging me about Rachel, she's with me_."

"I do not nag!"

Tim covered a snort.

"_Of course not."_

"Where are you?" Dick asked.

"_In the lobby. It's empty and Rachel wanted to get away from the crowd."_

"Stay there. We're coming to get you."

Dick could practically hear Damian roll his eyes.

*x*x*

"Right. Step, step, and turn…Good!"

Dick and Tim entered the lobby to the sight of Rachel surrounded by the various children that had disappeared from the ballroom, Damian standing off to the side, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, an impassive yet surprisingly soft look on his face. Rachel was teaching them to dance. She was holding the hands of a little boy that looked no more than eight, the pair laughing as she twirled him around. She passed him off to a girl that looked a little older than him before turning to smile at them.

"Hello," she said, a little breathlessly with a happy flush dancing across her cheeks.

"What are you doing? Why did you disappear like that? What were you thinking?" Dick asked, getting straight to the point.

Rachel's brow furrowed in confusion at his slightly panicked and worried tone, trying to figure out what was wrong. "The children were bored and the adults were ignoring them. Rachel gave them something to do."

"You're teaching them to dance?" Tim asked.

She nodded, smiling proudly. "Rachel asked Damian to come to. Partly so he could keep an eye on Rachel and partly to get him away from the vultures in there that you two call guests."

Damian scoffed, having heard the comment, but didn't refute it.

Dick pouted some, the tension finally leaving his body. "You couldn't rescue me?" he whined. Tim rolled his eyes.

"You said this was important," was her reply, "Rachel had to let you and Tim go."

"But why Damian?" Dick persisted.

"Because, Grayson, I do not whine like a child," Damian said, walking over to them, hands stuffed into his pockets, looking every bit the mini-Wayne he was.

"And since he was also bored, Rachel decided to rescue him!" she exclaimed, looking extremely pleased with herself. Damian looked oddly content standing next to her, but Dick choose wisely not to comment on it.

"Rachel," Tim said, "You could at least been less discreet about it; some of the parents are worried they can't find their kids."

Rachel frowned then, looking slightly guilty. "Oh," she said, "I didn't think of that." Before anyone could say anything, she had turned and rushed back to the children, dancing and twirling in between them, a light-hearted smile on her lips. She took the hands of two little girls and began leading them back to the ballroom, swaying in time with them. The other children followed and soon enough, everyone was back where they belonged. The children ran to their parents, eager to show what they had just been taught.

Rachel smiled up and Tim and Dick. "Problem solved."

Tim opened his mouth to say something, but before he could say anything, Rachel kissed both him and Dick on the cheek, grabbed Damian's wrist and dragged the scowling boy to the center of the dance floor, smiling all the while. Dick crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the two, chuckling lightly.

Tim sighed next to him. "She just does what she wants, doesn't she?"

Dick smiled. "Yep."

"I suppose," Tim said, crossing his arms, "That all things considered, tonight wasn't nearly as disastrous as it could have been."

"Now, now, Timmy. Don't say that, the night is still young," Dick said a mischievous smirk growing on his lips, "This is Gotham. Anything could happen."

Tim rolled his eyes, but didn't protest.

* * *

><p><strong>There it is. Not particularly proud of this one, but this chapter directly results in the next chapter, so...yeah.<strong>

**FYI, the next chapter will have a Batgirl in it. The one after that will probably be a Jaybird chapter. :)  
><strong>

**~Elri  
><strong>


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